The Fist of the Little Overlord of Hanshi
Lu Xingye, the little bully in the Han Normal School, only has him and Aunt Shen at home.
Unlike little Cheng Yu'an, Uncle Cheng is just not often at home, but Lu Xingye really has no father.
He never said it, and we never asked.
Some boundaries are unspoken, like he never asks us why we always have our parents with us for dinner.
Aunt Chen is a painter who stays in her studio all day long. Her studio is filled with all kinds of strange things, including broken plaster statues, worn-out paintbrushes, and paint tubes of various colors.
So that place became our secret base.
As long as we don't disturb Aunt Chen who is painting in the inner room, she won't come out to chase us away.
But Lu Xingye was in a miserable situation. When Aunt Chen started painting, she often got confused about day and night, and of course she forgot to eat.
Lu Xingye became a "non-staff member" of our family. He ate at my house at noon and went to Jiang Yuanzhou's house at night.
However, don't think that this guy is a poor kid, he is a troublemaker.
————
Around the second semester of the third grade, Lu Xingye suddenly became addicted to fighting.
At that time, he was still far from achieving the prestige of "Little Overlord".
Almost every day after school, I could see him wearing a new and dirty school uniform.
He didn’t dare go home directly, so he came to my house every day.
"Here he comes again." I muttered as I opened the door and saw him standing there with his teeth bared.
As soon as my mother saw him, she sighed and went to look for iodine and cotton.
I leaned against the door frame. I was tired of seeing his miserable face with his teeth bared.
My mother was very patient. While gently cleaning his wound, she asked, "Why is it happening again this time?"
He was vague, saying, "I don't like him" or "He touched me first."
I often complained about it in private, but in fact he didn't have to come all the way to my house.
Aunt Chen paints day and night in the studio, and sometimes doesn't go home for several days. How could she notice a new wound on her son's body?
On the way home, I often saw Lu Xingye staggering in front of me, with his coat casually in his hand, and it was obvious that he had just come back from a fight.
That day, I finally couldn't help but rush forward.
"Lu Xingye, if you dare to fight again, I won't let you come to my house anymore."
The right side of his face was swollen, as if he had been punched hard.
I never knew that my words had so little deterrent effect. He didn't even look at me and continued walking forward.
I was furious, with my hands on my hips, and shouted behind him, "Lu Xingye, if you dare to fight again, I will tell Aunt Chen..."
As a childhood friend, I know his weaknesses very well.
Sure enough, he stopped.
Looking back, "Lin Nian, you're so annoying" was his usual tone.
I held my head high and said, "I'm serious."
He was silent for a while, then he zipped up his jacket and said in a muffled voice, "If you don't want to go, then don't go."
————
He really didn't come to my house that day. Looking at the quiet room, without Lu Xingye grimacing and screaming in pain as usual, I always felt like something was missing.
For several days in a row, my mother noticed it and came to ask me, "Hoshino has been much quieter recently. Is he really not fighting anymore?"
I nodded somewhat guiltily.
Well...I guess so, right.
However, I saw Lu Xingye again, in the back alley of Hanshi.
He pinned a taller and stronger boy to the ground, his fist raised high: "If you have the guts, say it again."
The man struggled hard, his face flushed red. "Am I wrong? I heard from my mom that your dad is a gigolo who abandoned your mom for money..."
"Bang--"
The punch was powerful and accurate, hitting the opponent's face directly.
The man cried out in pain.
Lu Xingye simply sat astride the man and rained down his fists with reckless ferocity until the other party completely shut up and begged for mercy, holding his head.
He stood up panting, wiped the corner of his mouth with his hand, and spat on the ground.
When he turned around, his eyes met mine, who was frozen in place.
"He really needs to be taught a lesson." I heard my own voice, surprisingly calm.
Lu Xingye didn't say anything, just looked at me.
“But…but…” I wanted to say that fighting was wrong, and that he could tell an adult.
But Lu Xingye shook his head and interrupted me.
"This is what we need to teach these people a lesson." He shook his small fist in front of me.
The fist is not big, but it already has the outline of a young boy.
them?
So how many people did he fight?
I stared at him blankly. Lu Xingye looked quite miserable now. His left eye was swollen into a slit and his arms were covered with bruises.
But he was smiling, and the light of victory reflected in his eyes.
I don’t know if it was because the sunlight was too strong that day that my eyes hurt, but something sour and astringent wanted to come out.
He put his arm around my shoulders and half-dragged me out of the alley. "Let's go back. My eyes hurt a little."
The familiar smell of disinfectant wafted through my living room again, accompanied by his howling screams.
"Aunt Bai, be gentle, be gentle...it hurts! Hiss——"
And my mother's gentle reproaches reminded me of how he had to spend those days and nights without anyone by his side.
Children from single-parent families seem to like to go to extremes.
They are either very cowardly or exceptionally strong.
And because he wanted to protect the person who stayed in the studio all day, he could only be the latter.
————
When we all thought that Lu Xingye would only deal with fists in his life, the "Little Overlord" suddenly started painting seriously.
At first, Lu Xingye's start of painting did not attract much attention.
We all thought it was just a passing fad, just like his previous obsession with Ultraman models and four-wheel drive cars, and the craze would last for a summer at most.
But he seemed different this time.
He began to sit in front of the easel and paint on the canvas seriously.
He started to talk to us in a cocky way about Rembrandt's light and shadow and Van Gogh's starry sky, although we were all confused.
Once, he had the urge to paint my portrait.
I sat there for a long time, my neck was stiff, and I leaned over to take a look with great anticipation.
On the drawing paper was a "monster" with three eyes and a crooked nose.
I was immediately furious and chased him around the yard, beating him.
He laughed so hard that he fell backwards. His smile was bright and open, and he looked relaxed and at ease in a long time.
At that moment, I felt as if the little bully covered in thorns was really being soothed by something gentle.
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